


The Carnality of 'Twist-It'

by TooManyFandomsNeverEnoughTime



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Fight Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, but i wanted the world to know, not that that's really explored in this fic, thomas thorne is definitely a 200 year old virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyFandomsNeverEnoughTime/pseuds/TooManyFandomsNeverEnoughTime
Summary: The obligiatory explicit fic of what happened after The Captain and Thomas played 'Twist-It'.“Admit defeat, Thorne.” The Captain insisted, once again pushing the arm into a more uncomfortable position causing Thomas to writhe slightly underneath him.And then, he went suddenly very still, feeling something press against his lower back.That's it, that's the plot.
Relationships: The Captain/Thomas Thorne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	The Carnality of 'Twist-It'

With hindsight, Alison should have tidied away the game of Twister after Pat had described to her the horrors which might ensue if another game took place. But she hadn’t listened. And now, for the third night in a row, she found herself in charge of the Twister spinner. Her role doubled as referee since the players, Thomas and The Captain, weren’t exactly quick to back down to each other.

The first night, in which Alison had let Pat referee, was basically a repeat of Christmas Day’s events despite both Thomas and The Captain having promised to not take it over the top and to let the other ghosts take part too. It lasted all of 10 spins before they’d muscled their way across the mat, trying both to take up the most complicated positions along with attempting to obstruct the other’s efforts. Needless to say, the other ghosts including referee Pat left in frustration, leaving the game a draw.

Alison definitely should’ve heeded Pat’s advice and just let the two mope about the draw, but after a day of pestering from Thomas and The Captain, much like a mother to toddlers, stressed-out Alison had no choice but to cave and become official spinner and referee.

That night she needn’t have worried, the game ended pretty swiftly when there was a loud crack of the fire which made Thomas jump and slip positions. Despite The Captain’s protests, Alison had to agree (out of sympathy for Thomas’ tragic past) that it was yet again another draw.

The second night of refereeing and the game seemed to go on forever; Alison’s finger had begun to cramp from the frequent spinning and she began to understand why Julian complained whenever he was asked to move objects. She hadn’t realised what time it was until Mike, clad only in underwear, came downstairs to find her and ask if she was coming up to bed.

The Captain, a tad distracted by the sight, lost balance and took Thomas down with him; Alison, tired of the night’s shenanigans once again called it a draw and headed to bed.

Which all led to her third game and what she had threatened to be her last if the pair didn’t play fairly. To rectify her previous night’s mistake, she set a timer and the two agreed they would only play for an hour, if neither had won by that point, it was game over, the two were equals at Twister and she was putting it away for good.

As she’d expected, the timer went before an official winner was declared, both players jumped at the noise but managed to keep their positions,  
“Right, that’s it, done.” Alison concluded, standing up and placing the spinner back in the box,  
“Now, hold on a second…”  
“Wait, Alison…” Both protested from their Twister positions,  
“No, you both agreed to call it a draw after the timer and I’m sick of babysitting you both.” Alison complained, before walking over to the Twister mat, ready to attempt to fold it to fit in the box but inevitably give up and just cellotape the lid shut with the mat in disarray,  
“There must be some other way one of us can win?” Thomas queried, straining a little in the position he was in. Alison smirked,  
“I’ve got it,” She began and backed away from the mat, “You both stay in the exact positions you're in for as long as possible and whoever falls first loses. That way you don’t need a spinner and I can get on with my lif-” Alison cut herself off, still struggling to curtail her slightly insensitive references towards life and death. Fortunately, the other two were still focussing on maintaining their positions to care,  
“Yes, but…”  
“No. No buts, that’s how you’re going to settle this.” Alison stated, once again feeling like a mother to toddlers, “Let me know who wins!” She called as she left the room.

“It sounds to me like you’re concerned, Thorne, you could always forfeit.” The Captain glanced down towards Thomas with a smirk,  
“Ha! I was merely concerned for you!” Thomas insisted, despite knowing his own position was arguably the more difficult to maintain.

Much like their first round on Christmas Day, Thomas found himself stuck below The Captain. He seemed to have a limb towards every corner of the mat in some futile attempt to impress Alison with his flexibility. The Captain, however, had been playing more tactically, concentrating on making the game difficult for Thomas; he’d also been fortuitous in that he had never had to place his right hand on the mat. His left hand currently resided under Thomas’ shoulder meaning Thomas was having to slightly bend his arm to accommodate The Captain. Both of his legs were astride Thomas’ middle, bending slightly so that his hand wasn’t bearing too much weight.

“Are you sure you don’t want to end it here, Thorne? No-one would blame you for giving up in your position.” The Captain quipped, still smirking down at Thomas, oozing confidence. Thomas scowled back up at him; he wasn’t giving up, he’d either lose fairly or call it a draw.

When Thomas didn’t react, The Captain (despite the fact that he could definitely outlast Thomas in this competition and had no need to resort to lower tactics) decided to bring out the big guns; any mention towards Thomas’ attempts to woo Alison, “Come now, Alison has left, there’s no-one to impress any more and if you forfeit now, I’ll happily tell everyone what a grand competitor you were.”

The taunts were met with silence from the other as he tried to focus all his energy on maintaining his position whilst The Captain maintained his smile,  
“Well, well, well, silence from Thomas Thorne, I never thought I’d see the day. Don’t you have some god-awful poem to write about all of this?” He quipped, watching for any slight reactions from Thomas that would suggest his ploy was working. Nothing much other than a clenched jaw and slightly furrowed brows, but that told The Captain everything he needed to know. “This poem might be one that I can actually sit through.” He continued, observing every detail of Thomas’ face. He reckoned another comment or two and Thomas would lose his temper and, hopefully, his balance, “Perhaps you could call it ‘The Captain’s Victory’?” Thomas stared up at him after a period of eye contact with the ceiling and The Captain knew he was on the home stretch to triumph, “Maybe Alison would even listen to this one too?”

Thomas jutted his arm, as best he could without losing his balance, in some effort to knock into The Captain’s, “Cheating, are we?” The Captain questioned, easily maintaining his balance,  
“You started it!” Thomas declared,  
“I disagree, but I can finish it, if you like?” The Captain lowered himself further down so even less weight was placed on his arm in case Thomas tried that trick again. In the middle of the lowering, he decided to replicate Thomas’ move but with much more success, hitting his own arm into Thomas’.

Thomas, now visibly annoyed with The Captain’s dirty tactics and not considering the implications of his actions, jutted his hips upwards, knocking into the other.

It worked, to a point, as The Captain, more out of alarm of the hips below suddenly grinding upwards into his behind, than of actually losing his balance, quickly toppled downwards onto Thomas, causing the poet to lose his positioning as well.

“Oh dear, I think my poem shall have to be renamed, ‘Thorne’s Victory’.” Thomas remarked with a smile of his own.

His moment of triumph was curtailed, however, when The Captain, quickly and efficiently, thanks to his army training, and Thomas’ overall lack of fighting experience, flipped Thomas over, grabbed one of his wrists and twisted it behind his back, bending it at the elbow and upwards towards Thomas’ head,  
“You cheated.” The Captain stated, tightening the grip and pushing the arm further upwards. Had they been alive, there would be a risk of breaking the arm but that was not of concern for them; it would instead just be rather painful for Thomas.  
“You started it!” Thomas got out in between deep breaths to keep his cool and pained moans through gritted teeth. He attempted to shift position, trying to lift himself with his free arm to ease the pressure on his trapped one but The Captain sat firmly upon him, making any efforts futile.

“Admit defeat, Thorne.” The Captain insisted, once again pushing the arm into a more uncomfortable position causing Thomas to writhe slightly underneath him.

And then, he went suddenly very still, feeling something press against his lower back.

His first thoughts were that of The Captain’s swagger stick, but before tonight’s game, as before the other games, The Captain had placed the stick under his belt so that it didn’t interfere with ‘Twist-It’.

Thomas swallowed realising the other option; mainly from the memories of his own awkward experiences. The Captain was hard against him and either the other man was so repressed, he hadn’t noticed or he was hoping Thomas was naive enough to not recognise what he felt.

Whatever The Captain’s thoughts, Thomas decided to use it to his advantage (The Captain had initiated the cheating after all, why shouldn’t Thomas give it a go?) and writhed underneath him until the grip around his arm loosened enough for him to turn around and use his free hand to pull The Captain downwards by his collar into a rather chaste kiss on the lips. After all, it was meant to be a distraction, no need to exhaust any of his actual passion into it.

The Captain did not seem to get that message. He released his grip on Thomas’ arm and grabbed at the other’s own collar either side with both hands. They stared at each other momentarily, blue eyes into brown. Thomas moistened his lips, and The Captain’s eyes flicked downwards, just catching a glimpse of the tongue.

Neither would admit that they made the first move and to determine it either way, one would probably need a slow-motion replay of the action. It was fast, both pulling towards each other by their grips on the other’s collar, their lips finally slamming together fuelled by their competitive rage and desperation, neither having kissed another soul since being alive.

Thomas, very quickly joined The Captain in the erection department and began canting his hips for any kind of friction. The Captain was much more reluctant but after a few hip rolls from Thomas below, he got the idea and trepidatiously moved his own until both were grinding against each other.

It went on for a while, neither quite bold enough to take the next step until, finally, both drunk with desire and concerned he might orgasm just from kissing alone (not that that would be a bad thing but The Captain definitely wouldn’t let him live it down if he did… so to speak), Thomas attempted to move one of The Captain’s hand downwards along with his own.

Much like their game of ‘Twist-It’, The Captain seemed to be making this competitive too or had some notion that being in control might be the better option in this situation, he halted Thomas’ efforts and brought the other’s hands above his head with one tight grip of his own.

Thomas whined, desperate to be touched and instinctively bucked his hips upwards. The Captain, taken by surprise, groaned into the kiss before withdrawing everything other than his hand keeping a hold of Thomas’. The poet mewled at the sudden lack of contact.

It didn’t last long, however, before he was turned over again, hips ragged up by The Captain’s strong arms before he heard the rattling of The Captain’s belt and trouser fastenings being undone. Thomas reached down to do the same, concerned that the 18th century fastenings of his breeches might slow things down. It was all he could really do to assist in his position but it seemed to be enough; The Captain took the hint and pulled down the breeches along with Thomas’ undergarments. Thomas whined again as his erection was finally allowed freedom.

The speed at which both men were operating and their lack of communication with each other would suggest that if either slowed down or dared speak to one another, they might sober up to their situation and stop the dalliance entirely. Neither wanted that. So, without preamble, The Captain parted Thomas’ milky white cheeks and pushed inwards.

Thomas bit into his hand to stifle a loud groan at the sudden fullness; he laid no claim to being an expert sexually, but he was pretty confident, had they been alive, it would’ve taken considerably more preparation and time to get to this stage. Ghosts needn’t bother with things like that, their “bodies” (if they could be called that), wouldn’t really take to any sort of stretching and it wasn’t like he could bleed anyway. Thomas did have to wonder though, whether The Captain already knew that, given the confidence he had entered with.

His thoughts quickly disappeared when The Captain began to withdraw from him, the other having spent a moment adjusting to the pressure around his cock. Another pause before the grip on Thomas’ hips tightened (Thomas thankful that ghosts couldn’t bruise) and The Captain pushed back in, much faster than before, setting the pace for the rest of their pursuit.

Realising he was already on the edge, Thomas reached to stroke himself to completion. His fingers lightly curling around his length for all of a second before the pressure on his hips disappeared to pull back both of his arms,  
“Please…” He breathlessly uttered, head hitting the long forgotten Twist-It mat underneath and instinctively pushing his hips back for more contact.

If Thomas had thought they were moving fast before, he hadn’t anticipated how much speed pushing back would gain him, the thrusts increased and the angle changed as The Captain accommodated holding Thomas’ arms.

Thomas wasn’t exactly au fait with anal intercourse (or any kind of intercourse at all really) but he hadn’t expected the sudden pleasure from the change of positions and his cock twitched at the sensation.

It only took a few more thrusts before his breathing became shallow and his whining reached volumes that could, without a doubt, alert the others. Fortunately, he was far too consumed with the throes of orgasm to care as he soiled the Twist-It mat (not that it mattered, any cum would just evaporate after a while regardless) and clenched around The Captain.

That pushed The Captain over the edge too. He dug into Thomas’ wrists with bruising strength and gave a relatively composed grunt as he came inside the other compared to Thomas’ orgasmic crescendo.

Once again, he toppled onto Thomas, breathing heavily, more out of instinct than that ghosts actually had a need to breathe. It was for all of a moment before The Captain seemed to sober back to his usual up-tight, self-righteous state; he stood quite quickly and corrected his uniform, Thomas feeling disappointed at the sudden loss of contact,  
“Good, err…” The Captain began, straightening his tie and avoiding eye contact with Thomas, “...good night.” Thomas, without missing a beat, despite his post-coital bliss or perhaps encouraged by it, smirked at the other’s back as he walked towards the door,  
“I’ll expect a Twist-It rematch at the same time tomorrow then, since you cheated.” He quipped and the other glanced back from the doorway with the faintest smile,  
“I think I should like to try a different game tomorrow.” The Captain called as he left the room and proceeded to bed, “Good night.”

**Author's Note:**

> I encourage everyone who enjoyed the 'Twist-It' scene to please write their own versions of what happened and make them as explicit as possible, thank you.
> 
> Join us on our NSFW, adults-only Ghosts discord [here](https://discord.gg/8VaB3BdZvd).
> 
> You can also follow me on [tumblr](https://toomanyfandomsneverenoughtime.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
